Here's the background information. I work in a residence hall as a resident assistant. I assist the residents. However, this story isn't about the residents; it is about the staff that I worked with and cared so much about. Throughout the year we are trained to respect others, use appropriate and uplifting language, be cheery, pleasant, and helpful, and most importantly remain politically correct in all situations. Diversity training is essential. So it was to my surprise that I was awarded with the "Ratchet Residents of the Year Award" at the end of the year awards banquet.

Background about my residents. I had a floor of freshman college residents from all backgrounds of life, just looking to make friends and have fun. No harm in that right? Wrong. Yes, they made their share of mistakes and they paid for them as well. They were a bit overly-social at times and they were greatly persecuted by my staff for it. They weren't criticized to their faces, but instead to mine. I would bear the grunt of all things negative that happened on my floor. I was a first year RA with a co-RA who was a first year as well. The problem with us wasn't that we lacked experience, but the fact that, looking back, I had no real support from my co. I would do half of his bulletin boards, I'd be early to our events and set up and develop most of the plans, I would drive him anyplace he needed to go without asking for a cent of gas money or anything in return (GAS ISN'T CHEAP). He refused to write up any of our residents or even confront our residents over issues. Not a good thing. He pushed me to do it. I broke up many a party, a few fights, dealt with being frightened in the restroom, and the list goes on. But nobody credited me with that. I got the "Ratchet Residents" award. My residents were recognized before me, the actual staff member. I felt belittled.

Definition of "RATCHET"- Someone or a situation that is or acts:
ghetto
out of pocket
or just plain unnecessary

A very negative term for negative circumstances. Rarely ever used in a good way. I've never heard it used positively.

(a word that most of my staff didn't even know until they developed relationships with the few black people on our staff. It's a slang word primarily used in urban situations. Most of the staff was very suburban. Double it was like being stabbed with your own knife.)

Background on the remainder of the staff: On the staff, not too many people had vehicles or were willing to use them. Bittersweetly, I was blessed to have a vehicle in a close location on campus. I was very often asked for rides and errands and I never asked for anything in return. I like to help people.

Some car situations I encountered:
1. Being asked to drive for hours early in the morning to pick up pasta for an event, and retrieve 2 rice cookers from various locations that the address was unknown.
2. Being asked to pick up someone from clear across town at 12:00am because they missed the bus. They were more concerned with not being invited to a Plucker's dinner that I was on my way to after picking them up than gratitude or gas money.
3. At 8 am, taking a coworker to the dmv to pick up a license. I had a class a 11. I don't wake up until 10/10:30. I didn't ask for gas money.
4. Being told that a coworker needs to go pick up a toy and when the car was retrieved and waiting for a few minutes being told by phone that I didn't have to.
4. Being called only to drop a co-worker downtown to meet up with a friend in dense traffic.
5. The list continues...

I even swallowed my pride to get on good terms with a coworker that I disliked, to make life better. At the end of the year she threatened to snitch on everybody who went to a party if she got in trouble for an unrelated incident pertaining to her job efficiency.

At the end of the year, all my good deed were overlooked. All of my good times and cheerful manners were surpassed by my residents. There's more to living this story than you can read. It wasn't an isolated incident, it was building up over a period of 10 months. So ten months of reliability, kindness, and sociability were reduced down to an award for "Ratchet Residents."

2008 December 20
by Brian

A Titusville man was just trying to do the right thing when he paid sales tax a store had failed to collect for a small purchase. But after paying the $1.50 tax, the state threatened the man with major fines and criminal charges.

…

He sent a check to the state for a dollar and 50 cents—with a full explanation. But the very next month—the agency demanded Scott pay a 50 dollar fine —because it thought he was a business—that failed to file tax returns.

Scott sent another letter to Tallahasse clearly stating that he was paying sales tax as a customer after a minor mistake. He thought that was the end of it. But far from it—the next month the revenue department insisted Scott was a business that had to pay a 650 dollar fine—or face collections —AND criminal charges.

Government at its finest!

And in California their Supreme Court has ruled that a woman who pulled her friend from a wrecked vehicle can be sued for injuries that may have resulted. The moral of the story is that if you are in California and observe someone in life threatening peril just do nothing. Better yet, just stand around mocking the victim.

http://www.flashpointblog.com/2008/12/20/no-good-deed-goes-unpunished/

September 18, 2008

Here is another notable example of how gun laws prohibiting felons from possessing guns can lead to strange developments in the federal criminal justice system. This local story, headined "Felon aided woman but kept gun and gets jail: Man not faulted for stopping suicide, but keeping weapon," starts and ends this way:

A man who stopped a woman from harming herself with a handgun was sentenced to 12 months in prison this week by a federal judge. Bryant K. Ervin ended up with prison time not because he stopped a potential suicide, but because he was a convicted felon and was barred from possessing a firearm.

In court, Assistant U.S. Attorney Shawn Weede said the government was seeking jail time because Ervin kept the weapon for more than a week afterward, not because of the way he came to possess the silver handgun.

Federal sentencing guidelines called for a prison term between two and three years. Weede recommended a sentence of 15 months, or about half the guideline range, because of the circumstances. Ervin's defense attorney, Kier Bradford-Grey, asked District Judge Sue L. Robinson to give him a sentence of time served, or about seven months....

U.S. Attorney Colm F. Connolly said the message from this case is, "Felons and guns don't mix and we have a zero tolerance level for convicted felons possessing weapons." However, he said if his office encountered "an extreme case where a felon did take possession of a gun to save the life of another individual, and that person called police immediately [to turn in the gun,] we wouldn't prosecute that person." In this case, Connolly noted, the defendant kept the gun for more than a week by his own admission. "And that is a crime."

http://sentencing.typepad.com/sentencing_law_and_policy/2008/09/proof-of-aphori.html

by Danny Vice

Khartoum, Sudan (The Weekly Vice) - A 52 year old British teacher has been charged with inciting hatred, insulting religion and showing contempt of religious beliefs after she allowed her class to choose the name Muhammad for a stuffed teddy bear.

If found guilty, Gibbons could face a large fine, 6 months in prison or a punishment of 40 lashes.
The teacher, and mother of two was teaching a lesson about animal habitats and invited one of her pupils to bring in a teddy bear the student owned. She then invited the class to think of names for the toy. Several names were offered, however the teacher's class ultimately decided on the name Muhammad.

Gibbons was arrested after a parent complained, accusing her of naming the teddy bear after the Islam prophet Muhammad. Although it is common for Muslim men to be named Muhammad, apparently giving this name to a toy or animal is considered Blasphemy.

A British Foreign Office spokesman confirmed that Gibbons had indeed been official charged in the case.

"Khartoum north prosecution unit has completed it's investigation and has charged the Briton Gillian (Gibbons) under Article 125 of the criminal code," Suna said quoting a senior Justice Ministry official.

British lawmaker, William Hague called on the British government to "Make it clear to the Sudanese authorities that she should be released immediately. To condemn Gillian Gibbons to such brutal and barbaric punishment for what appears to be an innocent mistake is clearly unacceptable."

The English-language private school, Unity High School, has been closed for at least the next week until the tensions ease.

The school issued a statement in local newspapers calling the incident a "misunderstand". It also reiterated the school's "Deep respect for the heavenly religions" and support for "beliefs of Muslims and their rituals".

The school has also added that "the misunderstanding that has been raised over this issue leads to divisions that are disadvantageous to the reputation of the tolerant Sudanese people."

http://www.theweeklyvice.com/2007/11/gillian-gibbons-no-good-deed-goes_1250.html

Thursday April 2,2009
By Chris Riches

AN HONEST student who handed in a mobile phone he found was stunned when police arrested him for theft.

Paul Leicester, 18, played the Good Samaritan when he discovered the handset lying in the street.

He rang the last number dialled and told a friend of the owner he would leave the phone at a nearby police station. But officers arrested him for “theft by finding”, held him for four hours and took a DNA sample.

Yesterday Paul said: “I thought I was doing the right thing and had it thrown back in my face. I wouldn’t go to the police in future. All I was doing was the honest thing. It was a shocking experience.”

The A-level student at Southport College, Merseyside, had been out celebrating his 18th birthday last month when he found the phone.

Paul added: “Being arrested isn’t a good way to celebrate your birthday. What are you supposed to do when you find a phone?”

Merseyside Police dropped the case but Paul’s father Vinnie, 37, of Seaforth, Merseyside, is still angry over his arrest.

He said: “It should never have happened. Paul’s mum and I brought him up the right way. They should give him an apology.”

Chief Superintendent Ian Pilling said: “We are reviewing the circumstances of the arrest.”

http://www.dailyexpress.co.uk/posts/view/92661/Student-arrested-for-being-honest

June 16, 2004
by Mark Scaramella

Last February 25th, Christian Cerelli, 20, described as a transient by the Mendocino County Sheriff's Department, and Jerrell Robles, 21, of Calpella, ripped off Detlef Hamman's medical marijuana.

Mr. Hamman is a 65-year old resident of Greenfield Ranch and is a card-carrying consumer of medicinal marijuana.

Mr. Hamman had allowed Cerelli to stay with him when Cerelli said he was homeless, but trouble soon developed between the samaritan and the street punk.

According to Cerelli's subsequent letter of apology to Judge Henry Nelson, composed after Cerelli was arrested for armed home-invasion robbery — Mr. Hamman "grabbed me in a place not wanted by me several times and said, 'Let's hump'."

His testicles intact and unhumped, Cerelli was nevertheless offended by the invitation, whether or not it had been extended. He was so offended by the perhaps mythical event that he began thinking about stealing Mr. Hamman's reserves of medicinal cannabis.

The ensuing crime wasn't particularly well planned. According to Linda Thompson, Cerelli's Public Defender, the theft "appeared more like the type of conduct that might be discussed or planned while stoned." Amended, Ms. Thompson's surmise might read, "This crime appeared to have been planned and carried out by two exceedingly stupid individuals who are even dumber than they usually are when they're loaded."

Robles and Cerelli drove to Mr. Hamman's rural trailer home on Find Yer Way Road on Greenfield Ranch in the hills west of Redwood Valley. They had cannily thought to cover the license plates of their robber mobile with a towel, a precaution certain to inspire impertinent inquiries from law enforcement of this type: "Hey! Why are you two morons driving around with your license plates covered with towels?"

Cerelli, having been Mr. Hamman's house guest, was familiar with both the property and Mr. Hamman's daily routine. The two mopes, thinking hard, thought if they waited a while Hamman would leave so they could simply sneak in and snag his pot. They waited a whole half an hour, but Mr. Hamman was still not out the door.

Robles and Cerelli, archetypal members of The Instant Gratification Generation, could wait no longer for the old fuddy duddy to exit his home. They put on their ski masks and charged on into Hamman's trailer. The intrepid bandits assumed Mr. Hamman, a certified Senior Citizen, would be no match for a pair of Mendo-bred stoners. Hell, two young guys and a knife shouldn't have any trouble grabbing an old guy's pot. We'll cut the geezer to his gizzard if he tries to hit us with his Medi-Care card.

Of all their miscalculations, their blithe assumption that Mr. Hamman would be unwilling to engage them in hand-to-hand combat was Robles' and Cerelli's most errant. The old guy proved to be a lot tougher than they'd assumed he'd be. Pot people of whatever age are radically more inclined to die for their smoke than give it up to thieves — especially a thieving ingrate like Cerelli.

So Cerelli and Robles burst into Hamman's trailer with Robles brandishing the knife. (Cerelli, of course, later said he didn't know anything about any knife.) Robles pinned Mr. Hamman on his bed with the knife aimed straight at the old guy's throat as Cerelli loaded Hamman's marijuana into the getaway truck.

But Mr. Hamman astonished Robles by knocking the knife from Robles' flabby hand. During the ensuing scramble for the weapon, with Robles unable to get primary knife recovery position from a man old enough to be his grandfather, Robles dashed out the door, jumped into the truck with its license plates draped in bath towels and, Robles at the wheel of the getaway truck, the two low-rent fools sped down Find Yer Way Road towards Ukiah.

Robles and Cerelli were jubilant. Their (presumably) first home invasion robbery had been a big success. R&C had all the pot they could smoke with plenty left over to sell. Except for the old fart being a lot more combative than they thought he'd be, Robles and Cerelli were home free!

Not.

Mr. Hamman (surprise!) had easily recognized Cerelli by his voice, clothes and body type. Cerelli and Robles were also known to the local Sheriff's deputy who investigated the robbery. The deputy had seen Cerelli and Robles in Robles' truck, which Mr. Hamman described to the deputy in such precise detail it was instantly identifiable despite the bandidos' cagey towel-over-the-license-plates ploy.

As it happened, while the cops were interviewing Mr. Hamman at The Superette in Calpella where Hamman had gone to report the crime, Robles and Cerelli were out back unloading Hamman's marijuana from the toweled truck. Yes, the vic was in front of the store with the cop while the two mopes were out back unloading the dope. Both parties were unaware of the other's presence. One site, one crime victim, two perps, one cop.

Several locals soon told deputies that they'd seen Robles and Cerelli come into town and unload large quantities of marijuana behind the Superette. Cerelli and Robles had also bragged to several of their friends about their big score.

"The police had pretty much the full story before the two were arrested," said prosecutor Keith Faulder. "We never got to a point where we considered the problem of dealing with Mr. Hamman's possession of a possibly illegal substance or checking out his Proposition 215 status."

Robles and Cerelli were arrested with the stolen marijuana in their gloating possession. They appeared to be surprised at how fast the cops had gotten on to them.

When Cerelli was booked into the Mendocino County Jail a routine fingerprint scan revealed that he'd been convicted of a felony drug charge in Missouri under the name Lawrence Morris. The fingerprint results were filed away without further attention being paid to them at the time.

Unaware that the cops knew about his prior dope adventures in Missouri, Cerelli-Morris promptly informed his probation officers — Mr. King and Ms. Stenback — that he was an orphan who had lived on the streets most of his life after his mother and two sisters had died in a car accident when he was five years old. The Probation Department duly incorporated Cerelli's sad orphan story into their probation report without checking Cerelli's prints themselves or asking the jail what the Cerelli-Morris print check had revealed. The Probation Department knows that all incoming perps get their prints run through the system. Neither P.O. bothered to check, which is performance par for the job this department does for the taxpayers of Mendocino County.

Public Defender Linda Thompson deployed the defective probation report to argue that her client shouldn't be sent to jail, but should be shown mercy and lenience. Hell, maybe Cerelli should be licensed to steal, given that he's had such a hard time of it. Not every orphan is Ray Charles.

"There's nothing to indicate that there was ever any agreement that anyone would be armed during the commission of the crime," said Thompson to Judge Henry Nelson, "nor was there ever any indication that Mr. Hamman was actually physically restrained. No weapon was used by Mr. Cerelli nor was there any evidence of understanding on the part of Mr. Cerelli that Mr. Robles intended to arm himself, nor was there really any plan that they would enter the residence while the victim was present. The crime itself demonstrates a lack of criminal sophistication and professionalism on the part of the defendant and appears more like the type of conduct that might be discussed or planned while stoned. ... This young man has no prior record, which should be given great weight in that he has pretty much been on his own and on the streets since he was quite young. The defendant is ready and willing to comply with the terms of probation. His sincerity is evidenced by the letter of apology attached hereto. ... The defendant is quite sorry for his conduct during the robbery and showed remorse for his conduct during these proceedings and in the probation report. Also, see attached letter of apology that Mr. Cerelli wishes to have given to the victim. ... These are two young men who like to smoke marijuana even though it appears that Mr. Cerelli was trying to minimize his marijuana use. Mr. Cerelli, upset by the purported conduct of Mr. Hamman, made a very stupid and costly mistake. However, it was not very clever, smart, or criminally sophisticated conduct. ... Mr. Cerelli has no known criminal history and a single isolated act, even though quite serious, does not warrant the conclusion that he poses a danger to the community. ... Circumstances in mitigation: defendant has no prior record which should be given significant weight in light of his difficulties thus far in his young life. The defendant does suffer from a mental health condition, namely bipolar disorder, and he had not been taking his medication due to circumstances beyond his control. Further, he has a very serious anger control problem that has never been fully addressed by therapy. Though it is a problem that Mr. Cerelli is very cognizant of — he has certainly had problems while in jail pending judgment and sentencing — the defendant acknowledged wrongdoing at an early stage of the proceedings. Counsel believes that Mr. Cerelli is salvageable and should not be sent directly to state prison. We can assist him in addressing both the bipolar disorder and the anger problem. State prison is not going to provide treatment or assistance with true rehabilitation. The victim himself, even though quite angry with both of these young men, indicated to the probation officer that he knew that they had problems and he hopes they can get help. He suggested a good dose of jail time."

Cerelli and Robles pled guilty to the robbery on April 26, 2004, in Judge Henry K. Nelson's court, hoping that Ms. Thompson's plea for leniency would keep them out of jail.

Prior to sentencing, however, when Prosecutor Faulder reviewed the file, he noticed that it didn't include any record of a criminal background check or fingerprints. Faulder asked DA Investigator Frank Rakes to check for the missing information. It took Rakes only a few minutes to retrieve the fingerprint scan results from the jail and to call the Missouri police for their records on Cerelli-Morris.

Rakes discovered that "Cerelli" was Mr. Morris's mother's maiden name and that Mommy lived in Redding. After a couple more calls, Rakes got hold of Mrs. Cerelli, now a resident of Red Bluff a few minutes south of Redding on I-5. Rakes informed Mrs. Cerelli that he had found her son, and that he was being prosecuted for a armed marijuana home invasion robbery. Both pieces of information were indifferently received by Mommy.

At the time of sentencing, DA Faulder possessed the results of Rakes' quick but revealing investigation, the quick and revealing investigation that should have been done by the tag-team probation officers and the public defender. Faulder cheerfully informed Mr. Cerelli/Morris — and Judge Nelson — that he had good news for him: "Mr. Cerelli, I'm happy to inform you that we have found your mother — she's alive and well and living in Red Bluff."

No longer an orphan, although still bi-polar — half crook, half moron — Judge Nelson sentenced Cerelli-Morris to six years in state prison.

If Ms. Thompson or the Mendocino County Probation Department had made any attempt to check out Mr. Cerelli's story and his criminal history before trotting out the fatuous orphan story in court, it's more likely that Cerelli-Morris might have been given the lesser sentence reserved for the incompetent. In other words, because the Probation Department and the Public Defender were equivalently incompetent, this particular idiot is going to do twice the time most incompetents do for comparable crimes.

As for old Crotch-Grab and the County's medicinal marijuana battalions, next time you gear up for a dope initiative, why not go all out for legalization to clear the air, if not your heads. If your smoke was street legal, crime would be left to criminals, not the educationally handicapped.

http://www.theava.com/04/0616-cerelli.html

June 4, 2008

It's the early 1990s and this sysadmin pilot fish is working for an IT contracting company, assigned to a data center running lots of Windows PCs and a few Unix servers.

"I'm the general admin reporting to their very junior project IT manager," says fish. "In a year, I create several remote administration tools for Windows, oversee migration to Windows 3.11 and generally do such a good job the client decides to not only renew the contract, but significantly increase the scope and value."

Unfortunately, fish has already automated his work so completely that there's nothing even remotely interesting to do.

So fish asks for a transfer. Denied. Then he asks for, say, some slightly different work that might be less boring. Denied.

Then he finds another job and submits his resignation.

But he happens to mention to his boss who the new employer is. Big mistake.

"This manager digs around and finds that my current employer has a subdivision that has a contract with a subdivision of my new employer that prohibits recruiting employees of each other's companies," fish says. "It's only for people on that particular project, but that doesn't stop him from giving it a really good go."

First, the contracting company threatens to sue fish's new employer if it hires him. That doesn't work, but the contracting company is able to arm-twist fish's new employer to contract him back to work for the contracting company -- which then assigns him right back to work for the client with the automated-to-boredom data center.

Turns out that the contract with that client is up for renewal, and fish has done such a bang-up job that his continued presence is part of the deal.

When fish finds out, he's irritated that no one has offered any sort of raise or incentive to stay. "Instead, I'm forbidden to mention to the client that I have resigned or that I want to leave," says fish.

"I'm bothered by this seeming lack of ethics, not to mention the heavy-handed approach to staff retention, and threaten to immediately quit both companies. The contracting company finally relents and lets me move to my new position -- four months after I tried to leave in the first place.

"The kicker? After spending four months of trying to get me into their team, the new employer lays off the entire department eight months later."

http://blogs.computerworld.com/no_good_deed_goes_unpunished_0

June 22, 2009

So, there I was, minding my own business and getting my errands done like a good little Bat, and, as I was in line at a red light, I noticed something on the ground up ahead: an empty water bottle, discarded on the street by some careless felon. Okay, those of you who know me, or who have
even glanced cursorily at my body of work here on AC, know that I am an inveterate tree hugger, and it is in that spirit that you will not be surprised to hear that I hold people who litter in the lowest esteem. When I see someone casually discard an item onto the street, sidewalk or greenway, it actually foments in me a desire to perform violence on the wayward oaf.

I tend to restrain myself from actual fisticuffs, although I have on a couple of occasions called, "You dropped something!", thinking I could shame the misbegotten individual into picking said something back up while also giving them an excuse of ignorance, however feigned. Would you believe this has never worked, mainly because the malformed weasels who litter in the first place do not possess enough of a conscience to rescind their evil deposit. I guess gravity is too much of a challenge, let alone responsibility.

Now that you have been fully schooled on my disdain for those who litter (well, perhaps not fully, but I sense that your patience to hear me rant has its limits), imagine how it irked, ruffled and agitated me to see that the piece of litter in question was recyclable. What kind of cretin from the bottom of the slime pit would litter something recyclable? Oh, this was a double-dog sin, this was.

Fortunately, I was in position to rectify things, as the bottle was within reach. I could just stop next to it, open the car door, and pluck it off the pavement, turning it from harmful eyesore into potential parka stuffing with a simple trip to my recycling bin. One small pluck for a woman, one giant hug to the planet!

The light changed. I put my plan into action, drifting up to the bottle and swooping down like an Environmental Avenger to retrieve it. The people behind me, who must have been mindful of my good deed for the universe, kindly refrained from leaning on their horns to explain to me that the
green light means 'go'.

Well, that's when the best-laid plans gang oft aglay, as my buddy Bobby Burns used to say. For as I triumphantly lifted the bottle carward, with it came a stretchy, gooey tendril of melted blue bubble gum that tethered the bottle to the street. What the hell; was this some sort of evil improvised device designed to terrorize responsible environmentalists? There was no way to break the bottle free—the warm, gloppy gum continued to stretch. Not willing to surrender and fling the bottle back onto the road, I grabbed a paper napkin from the glove compartment (and I have plenty of those, believe me—fast food restaurants are awfully generous, and I throw NOTHING away unused) and swabbed the gum from the bottle.

I now had not a bottle tethered to the street by a strand of stretchy, globby blue bubblegum, but a paper napkin tethered to the street by a strand of...you get the picture. Again, I was powerless the snap the tendril, which continued to stretch and was now being blown by the breeze into the immediate and threatening vicinity of my car door. In terror of lacing my door—or, worse yet, my upholstery—with the disgusting blue gunk, and with the ever-looming awareness of the line of cars behind me, who had still been nice enough not to honk but whose hands were probably creeping inexorably into the position, I flung the napkin out of the car in disgust and shame. It landed on the road, looking EVER so much more like trash than the clear bottle it replaced. I was half-expecting someone to call, witheringly, "You dropped something!"

As I drove away, marveling at just how true that thing about hell and good intentions always proves to be, I tried to comfort myself with the thought, "At least the napkin is biodegradable." ...So says the Wayward Oaf.

http://www.associatedcontent.com/article/1869949/no_good_deed_goes_unpunished_pg2.html?cat=60

Posted at 9:36 AM on February 5, 2009 by Bob Collins

I'm not a big fan of all of the prep sports coverage in the Twin Cities media, but the last two "I wish I had that story" stories have been from that genre.

The most recent is today's compelling story from the Star Tribune's Michael Rand about cross-country skier Libby Ellis, who is ranked #2 in the state but hadn't competed in enough races to quality for the state races, because she's been competing overseas.

And so her competition -- South High -- "threw together a last-minute competition in the subzero darkness at 10:30 p.m. on Tuesday that allowed a jet-lagged Ellis to compete -- and win -- the Section 6 individual title on Wednesday."

It's the one thing that has saved prep sports from massive funding cuts: The assertion that sports still has the capacity to teach something to kids.

As usual, the greatest show in town is the comments attached to newspaper stories on Web sites. In this case, there was the expected appreciation that sportsmanship is still alive.

And then there was this:

Yes, I agree it was fantastic for the South coach to arrange this impromptu meet, but I don't get why they would bend-over-backwards for an egotistical person like this. Who are these "coaches" anyways? Before jet-setting across the globe to compete in international races, it might be a good idea to make sure you have your ducks in a row at home (i.e. keep track of races participated)! Before they edited the story, they reported that she had missed all but 2 races due to illness and international travel. It's unfortunate that a lesson couldn't have been taught here... instead she gets bailed-out and will probably expect others to go to extremes to cater to her needs in the future.

The reaction to what is a sweet story of sportsmanship raises the question: Is it possible to agree on anything in the age of the Internet?

http://minnesota.publicradio.org/collections/special/columns/news_cut/archive/2009/02/no_good_deed_goes_unpunished.shtml

By Rupal Parekh
Published: February 09, 2009

NEW YORK (AdAge.com) -- It's not easy being a chief diversity officer. Some of the insults hurled at those taking the job have included "pimp," "Uncle Tom" and "window dressing." In fact, as the executives themselves note, having a thick skin and a healthy dose of perspective can be essential to the role.

"I don't see those individuals who say those things standing with me on the front lines," said Tiffany R. Warren, who recently left her position as a diversity executive at Havas-owned Arnold to take on the newly created role of chief diversity officer at Omnicom Group. "I'm literally on the front lines, and sometimes it's a lonely place. If there were more of me, maybe we could make more of a difference," she said.

The ad agencies who've hired diversity officers are likely praying that they do figure out a way to make a difference -- and quick. Civil-rights attorney Cyrus Mehri is knocking on the door, after all. Last month, he released research in partnership with the NAACP that is believed to be the groundwork for a race-discrimination suit against the ad industry.

Nancy Hill, president-CEO of the American Association of Advertising Agencies, said after reading the report: "The numbers speak for themselves."

Ask the companies that hired diversity officers -- only Interpublic and Omnicom have done so at the holding-company level -- and they say the fact that they have appointed chief diversity officers shows their commitment to improving diversity, a massive task that requires sweeping organizational and cultural changes. What's more, they say, these individuals are responsible for some measurable strides -- from rising awareness to rising numbers of minorities in agency ranks.

Interpublic Group of Cos., for example, reported to the U.S. Equal Employment Opportunity Commission that between 2004 and 2007, it increased minority head count across various ethnic groups by 25% overall, and by 50% in terms of total "officials and managers."

Interpublic's U.S. head count during this period was essentially flat (up 1.5%, or less than 300 people), but it changed the composition of the work force to increase minority professionals and managers by more than 1,000 people. Beyond head count, it points to initiatives such as a two-year multicultural fellowship program, relationships with historically black colleges, minority job fairs, and linking executives' incentive compensation to how well it is meeting its diversity objectives.

"When I got here, all there was a desk and a chair and a telephone," said Heide Gardner, Interpublic's chief diversity officer. Ms. Gardner was plucked for the role by David Bell back in 2003, and these days reports to Interpublic's chief human resources officer, with a dotted line to Interpublic head Michael Roth.

But the self-reported improvements and the hiring of diversity officers don't convince critics. Industry observers have pegged such positions as a convenient way for agencies to run interference for criticism. Activist Sanford Moore has gone so far as to publicly label chief diversity officers at agencies and holding companies "pimps," who amount to nothing more than "window dressing."

"That type of position is certainly admirable, but it has to be in direct line with the rest of the corporate structure," said Jason Chambers, associate professor in the department of advertising at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, and author of "Madison Avenue and the Color Line: African-Americans in the Advertising Industry."

"Where are you in the organizational chart? Are you even on it? Who was your appointment made by? If your only role and responsibility is to be the company's face in the diversity issue of black enterprise ... what really are you accomplishing?"

A 'Band-aid'
In the business world at large, the percentage of folks in chief-diversity-officer roles is growing. More than 20% of the top 50 chief diversity officers report directly to the CEOs or are one-direct report removed, according to Diversity Inc. magazine.

In the case of Adland, chief diversity officer roles are "are a Band-aid over a gaping wound," said Luke Visconti, the magazine's co-founder.

"There is no question in my mind about why Cyrus Mehri is coming after the ad agencies," Mr. Visconti said, noting that ad shops have been absent from Diversity Inc.'s annual ranking of the top 50 most diverse companies, many of which, ironically, coincide with the top 50 advertisers in the country.

Talk to agencies and holding companies and they will concede there there's much work ahead to boost minorities in the ad business. Still, they are quick to defend themselves too, saying there has been measurable progress in the last few years.

"I feel good about what we have accomplished over the past five years," said Ms. Gardner. "I don't think anyone expects that we're going to go from having the gaps that we do today to closing them overnight. No other industry has done that. "

"We've still got a ways to go, but we're on the right path," said Sallie Mars, senior VP-director of creative services and director of diversity at Interpublic's biggest agency network, McCann Erickson. Ms. Mars also chairs the American Association of Advertising Agencies' diversity committee. In her diversity role, she reports to Marcio Moriera, vice chairman and chief human resources office of McCann Worldgroup. "Where we have made huge inroads are in the areas of awareness and commitment," Ms. Mars said.

To that end, Ms. Mars has set up an "affinity group," dubbed Mc2 that's made up of about 75 McCann New York employees who enjoy and want to promote a multicultural workplace. Among other things, the group does community outreach, which largely entails hosting groups of New York City public-school kids for a day of exposure to working in an agency.

"Individuals of color today have so many more choices ... if there's not an affinity group or internal-networking group that might cause that person to go and look for opportunities elsewhere," said Ms. Warren, who said that attracting the talent is a challenge, but the bigger obstacle is keeping them in the ad business.

Another area she plans to work on is engaging mid- to senior-level executives in the diversity effort. While Omnicom is still working out the details of her newly created role, Ms. Warren reports to counsel. She adds, though, that she didn't have a direct report to the CEO at Arnold. Of the agencies targeted by the New York City Commission on Human Rights, Arnold was among those that met its hiring goals.

Ms. Warren acknowledges that there are entrenched problems in Adland, but says the entire ad industry doesn't deserve a black eye. If nothing else, she is convinced that as a black woman, she is proof that it is possible for minority talent to thrive in this business.

"I will never say this industry is racist because I have succeeded and been in this industry for 12 years," she said. "I came in making $22,000, and what got me through every sort of professional test is that I was so passionate about this business."

And the criticism?

"I've seen a direct impact from the work I can do, and hopefully five years and 10 years from now I can look to those individuals I've mentored quietly ... and see that they have risen in this industry."

http://adage.com/article?article_id=134418

by monsieurginger on Sunday, March 29, 2009

Last week, a Palestinian youth orchestra “serenaded”, as the NYTimes article called it, a group of Holocaust survivors in Israel. Unfortunately, Palestinian authorities disbanded the youth orchestra from the West Bank after performing calling the Holocaust a “political issue.”

“She exploited the children,” said Hindi, the head of the camp’s popular committee, which takes on municipal duties. “She will be forbidden from doing any activities…. We have to protect our children and our community.”

The move highlights the sensitivity of many Palestinians over acknowledging Jewish suffering, fearing it would weaken their own historical grievances against Israel.

I don’t know about you, but I saw the performance as a gesture of peace and good will. It’s too bad the children are more mature than the politicians. I am waiting for the day an Israeli orchestra can tour through Arab countries. I am waiting for the day I can take a car and drive from Jerusalem to Beirut to Damascus to Baghdad.

If the Arabs are going to turn everything to a political issue, it is time that they “own up” to their treatment of minorities; own up to the estimated 900,000 Jews that fled or were expelled from Arab/Persian countries. Own up to the alliance that Arab leaders had with Nazi Germany in the 1930’s and 40’s.

My family fled Tunisia in 1961. It is perhaps a similar story to many Palestinian families. But I, and most Jews from Muslim countries, do not hold grudges against their countries of origin. I do not ask for any compensation.

I believe the reason the Palestinian Arabs hold a grudge, while the Mizrachi/Sephardic Jews do not, is because they let themselves be pawns in the greater schims of Arab leaders. Their entire focus is on Israel. Hardly a beep about Arab policy to keep Palestinians in “refugee” camps for generations, or discrimination to keep them poor. Israeli Arabs, and to an extent the Palestinian in the occupied territories, live in much better conditions than the Arabs around Israel. Who has a greater chance to go to medical school, an Israeli Arab or a Jordanian, Egyptian or Saudi?

Before the intifadas and without the various terrorist Palestinian organizations, Palestinians in the territories could have “enjoyed” the benefits of Israel, including medical care. I’m not saying that there should be one-state, it wouldn’t solve the reason for why we need a Zionist Israel. If the Palestinians want to vote, than the two-state plan is the only way.

http://ikibbitz.com/?p=93

Saturday, March 25, 2006

Back when I was a young and inexperienced psychiatric resident learning about psychiatry, I saw a middle-aged woman patient who was angry and upset at the "system", which she claimed didn't care about her or her needs. According to her, she had been a patient for years and no medication had ever worked; and noone had ever helped her. Noone had ever even cared. In my youthful naiivte, I became distressed when she pointedly included me in that pronounciation.

"You think you are so much better than me," she sneered at me, cutting me to the quick. "You've had the benefit of a good family, a great job, and all the opportunities of life. You have never suffered! You have no idea what its like to have a real depression like I do. I have suffered terribly. I have no money. I don't even have enough to get home on the bus and will have to walk all the way to the hovel the system is making me live in. And you don't even care!"

She went on in that vein for quite some time. Novice that I was, I didn't listen further because I was anxiously mulling over her words and concluding that I was indeed a selfish jerk with unrealistic expectations of this poor, sick lady. Who was I to judge her suffering? I had everything, she had nothing. I felt really bad.

Impulsively, as she got up to leave, I pulled out my wallet and gave her a twenty dollar bill. This should help a little, I told her, feeling happy that I could at least do something to help her; and that I could show her that I really did care about her plight. She mumbled a grudging thank you without looking at me and left.

Whatever narcissism lay beneath my gesture (and acting out rescue fantasies is a very narcissistic undertaking), looking back, I know that I genuinely wanted to help her; to engage her and let her see that I cared. In all honesty, I knew that I gave the money partly to make myself feel good, too. She had made me feel uncomfortable and guilty about her plight and my success-- as if the efforts I made in my own life were somehow responsible for her misery. I wanted to make sure she understood that I wasn't like all those other therapists who "didn't care."

I believed that I had done something good and looked forward to seeing her again, thinking that I had made a positive therapeutic intervention. At least I thought that until early the next morning, when the Patient Rights attorney contacted me to let me know that this patient had filed a complaint against me.

"What?" I cried in outrage. Yes, it was true. She had filed a formal complaint against me because she claimed that I had deliberately tried to make her feel small and worthless. That I had no right to act so "superior" to her.

"Did she tell you that all I did was to give her some money for bus fare?" I asked. The attorney paused delicately. Apparently she hadn't mentioned that fact to him. Nevertheless, he informed me, she wanted me disciplined and absolutely refused to see me again; saying she wanted someone who understood and appreciated her instead of someone who mocked her.

It took me years to understand the complex dynamics of that interaction. At the time, for me it had been a simple gesture of kindness that made me feel good because I was able to help someone I believed was suffering and needed help. It was also an expression of my own narcissistic rescue fantasies and my very human need to be liked. I only came to appreciate much later in my training how such good-intentioned behavior on my part actually sabotages the therapeutic relationship, rather than facilitates it. To expect a patient to like and appreciate me in the context of a therapeutic relationship was an unreasonable thing to do; sort of like expecting a newborn infant will provide you with the love and understanding you lack in your life. I had blundered badly as a therapist and let my own feelings interfere in the relationship with the patient.

But the incident is also useful to focus on the patient's pathology (and not just my own!), which was revealed in that exchange.

To her, my kindness represented a ruthless exploitation of her misery and an attempt to make her feel worse about herself. Yes she wanted my help, but she wanted it on her terms and her terms alone. She wanted to be able to keep her worldview that no one cared about her--and I had threatened that world view by my impulsive gesture. From her [admittedly dysfunctional] perspective, my kindness was yet another example of how the "system" was trying to invalidate her and the ultimate proof that she was correct in her assertions all along.

You begin to see the psychological dead end of this position, I hope? There is no real difference in her mind between someone trying to help her; and someone trying to hurt her. She had found a way to make both actions validate her warped and rather paranoid view of the world. The mechanism of projection is very helpful for this. She may have accused me of thinking I was better than her, but in reality, she was the one who felt superior.

In spite of the insult I apparently inflicted, I should mention that she never gave the money back (not that I had ever wanted or expected it to begin with); and I never saw her again after that.

I couldn't help thinking of this lady as I read about the recent rescue of peace activists in Iraq.

Before I go further, I'd like to emphasize that the peace activists are not "patients" who are in therapy; nor are the coalition forces who rescued them "therapists". Nevertheless, there is a certain symmetry between what happened with that angry patient and the recent rescue of certain activists in Iraq.

By now everyone knows the story of how these people were rescued by the US and British Military in Iraq and who--instead of being openly thankful of their rescue gave only grudging thanks, refused to cooperate with their rescuers; and basically insulted the rescuers as being the "root cause" of their being kidnapped in the first place; while praising their captors, who had ruthlessly tortured and murdered one of their fellow activists.

Many people rightly wonder, what kind of bizarre psychopathology could make people behave in this perverted fashion? Well, it ain't "love" and it certainly isn't "peace" that lies behind their actions, much as they would like to believe that is the case.

I submit that it is the same psychopathology of victimhood, with its concomitant psychological projection and denial of personal responsibility that was evident in the patient discussed earlier.

In the case of the peace activists' rescue, there may be some slight degree of neurosis in some of the expectations of gratitude. As my grandmother used to say, a good deed is its own reward, after all. But OTOH, simple human decency would dictate something more than the graceless attitude exhibited by the rescued toward the rescuers; as well as the appeasement and further enabling of murderous and brutal agenda of their captors. In short, those who were rescued display an enormous degree of self delusion, characterized by the moral contortions and pervasive lying to one's self that goes on in the minds of people who clutch their victimhood and/or martyrdom tightly as a shield against reality.

As I learned all those years ago, no good deed done for the professional (and paranoid) victim will ever go unpunished.

For someone that invested in victimhood, it is far too threatening to be confronted by evidence that undermines one's worldview. My patient was certainly not prepared to give up that worldview--no matter how dysfunctional it was for her. She needed to see my help as her entitlement; something she was owed and had rights to from the beginning -- not as something I granted. By giving her the money, not only had I insulted her and her worldview; I had implicitly set up the expectation that she would do something to earn it. And the truth was that she didn't want to earn it--she wanted it because it was her god-given right as one of the victims of the world. If any benefits accrued to me, then it automatically became invalidating to her.

Because, in her world, she claims the morally superior high ground. And, while she may be depressed, poverty-stricken and completely dysfunctional in the real world, she can always rejoice in her [self]righteousness and my oppressive brutality.

The same holds for the topsy-turvy world of the the activists and their parent organization. They are psychologically resistant to examining any lies that form the foundation of their belief system, which allows them to see themselves as morally superior beings. It allows them to shirk the responsibility and consequences of their own ill-thought out behavior that led to the death of one of their own. Not only do they shirk their own responsibility for events, but these champions of the oppressed, have enabled and protected those who casually murdered and tortured one of their own (and undoubtedly will do the same to future captives). In a breathtaking inversion of morality, decency, and common sense, they applaud their captors and protect them even as they accuse their rescuers of the responsibility for a plight that was brought about by their own thoughtless and "loving" behavior.

In the worldview they share with my former patient, one's victimhood is sacred. Once again, we find that people who have willingly drunk from the poisoned well of an ideology that has destroyed millions of souls and brought untold misery into the world. If there are the only two options in life--to be a victim or to be an oppressor-- they choose to be one of the saintly oppressed. Capture and abuse by a recognized victim group that they can magnanimously absolve of guilt, only adds to their faux saintliness; as does chiding and insulting those who would rescue them from their self-imposed martyrdom.

Think of it this way--these are people (both my patient and the peace activists) who not only are incapable of looking directly into the eyes of evil and recognizing its guilt; but they are equally incapable of looking into the eyes of the good and appreciating its innocence. And for good measure, they haven't been able to look in the mirror for a very very long time.

They have been lying to themselves for years; avoiding acknowledging their own feelings or taking responsibility for their own lives or actions; and projecting all their unacceptable feelings onto others. Both Western culture--America in particular; and the "system" are handy dandy repositories for those unacceptable feelings.

Some part of them recognizes that something dreadful is going on in the world, but they cannot face it directly because it is too threatening to their worldview and their holy scripture; and facing the truth might make them have to go into their heart of hearts to examine the origins of that dreadful terror. Hence the need to displace their anxiety to a less threatening authority figure (e.g., Bush or America; or even those that rescue them from death) is easier than facing the dread source of their anxiety.

Three psychological defense mechanisms (projection, denial, and displacement) are the source almost all human suffering--from the individual misery of my patient all the way to the societal miseries that result from racism, anti-semitism, sexism and genocide; as well as the brutal and fanatical terrorism that we now see all over the world.

If the peace activists and others of their ilk want to understand the wellspring of man's inhumanity to man, then they need to take a good, long look in the mirror.

http://drsanity.blogspot.com/2006/03/no-good-deed-goes-unpunished.html

There was a man who worked for the post office whose job was to process all the mail that had illegible addresses. One day, a letter came addressed in a shaky handwriting to God with no actual address. He thought he should open it to see what it was about. The letter read:

Dear God,

I am an 83-year-old widow living on a very small pension. Yesterday someone stole my purse. It had $100 in it, which was all the money I had until my next pension payment. Next Sunday is Christmas, and I had invited two of my friends over for dinner. Without that money, I have nothing to buy food with, have no family to turn to and you are my only hope. Can you please help me?

Sincerely,

Edna

The postal worker was touched. He showed the letter to all the other workers. Each one dug into his or her wallet and came up with a few dollars. By the time he made the rounds, he had collected $96, which they put into an envelope and sent to the woman. The rest of the day, all the workers felt a warm glow thinking of Edna and the dinner she would be able to share with her friends. Christmas came and went. A few days later, another letter came from the same old lady to God. All the workers gathered around while the letter was opened. It read:

Dear God,

May 24, 2009

How can I ever thank you enough for what you did for me? Because of your gift of love, I was able to fix a glorious dinner for my friends. We had a very nice day and I told my friends of your wonderful gift. By the way, there was $4 missing. I think it might have been those bastards at the post office.

Sincerely,

Edna

http://www.courant.com/features/hc-jokes-humor-thedot0524.artmay24,0,3635772.story

By Danielle Mundy
Thursday, February 02, 2006

what a day...

Have you ever had one of those days? You know the ones where something awful happened and you can sit back at the end of the day and think of the EXACT moment where it all went wrong? I had one of those days today, and it all started because I wanted to do something nice for my kids...

I finished up in chem. lab early today, around 1:30 instead of the 3:30 that I usually get out, and as I was walking out to my car, I decided that I would pick the girls up early from daycare so we could hike the nature trails at Sharon Woods before heading over to my mom's for dinner. Afterall, we hadn't done anything like that for a long time and we all enjoy activities like that. SO...I got in my car and headed home to change out of my high heels, as those aren't very condusive to hiking lol, then went to pick up the younger two girls from daycare before we came back to the house to wait on Kaitlyn to get out of school.

I sent them to lay down while I cleaned up the living room, knowing full good and well that they wouldn't sleep but they needed to rest for a little while before going hiking. I was in the middle of vacuuming when they both came running out, shrieking with laughter and galloping down the hallway. A light swat on each bottom - more playfully than actual punishment - and they were trotting back down the hall to their room. I turned off the vacuum and started to walk to the kitchen to get some bread to feed the ducks...

Now, at this point you're probably wondering what could have possibly happened, I mean I was cleaning, the girls were laying down, not much of interest could have REALLY happened, right? I wish that were true ...

It took me a few minutes to realize how quiet it was. With the vacuum off I should have been able to hear the girls still playing in their room, most likely jumping on the beds like they know they're not supposed to or wrestling on the floor. Instead, I could have heard a pin drop in the silence. A little uneasy, knowing that when the children are THAT quiet they are generally up to something I really won't like, I walked down the hall and stopped outside their door...and had to lean on the jam.

"Look Mommy..my hair". This came from my two year-old, who posed like a little model to show off her brand-new, home-done by the four year-old...buzzcut. Littered all across the floor were tiny auburn curls lying in clumps, almost concealing a pair of scissors that I know were up in the top shelf of my closet.

I screamed. I didn't think I'd ever stop screaming. The four year-old - Kaiya the Butcher - crawled to the furthest corner of her bed, knowing that she was sooooooo dead and there was nothing she could do about it. The two year-old - Kelsey the Bald One - stood there looking at me like I was completely insane, totally oblivious to what a weirdo she looked like with her lovely new hair-do. I picked Kelsey up and looked over her scalp; I could have cried. There were patches that the skin was showing through and other patches that were still 2 inches long, and I ended up "repairing" it by taking a pair of clippers to it on the second setting and leaving her with a not-quite-uniform 1/2" cut.

Kaiya on the other hand...I think she's still looking for her butt somewhere in her bedroom because I'm POSITIVE that I spanked it off at some point. She has no idea how lucky that she is that I didn't take the clippers to her hair so she'd look as stupid as the baby does right now.

Needless to say, we didn't end up going to the park today. Kaiya ended up spending the entire night sitting on her bed with no tv or toys, and no doubt sneaking around the room searching for her butt when I wasn't looking. Kelsey...lord have mercy...looks like a pretty little boy. My mom is assuring me that I'll laugh about this at some point but I really can't see it right now. I'll just be more careful in the future when I think I might do something nice...*sigh*

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/viewshortstory.asp?id=19463

July 03, 2009, 11:58:06 AM

Yesterday I went to the libary. Being a nice day I decided to walk. Couple blocks away I spotted something laying beside the sidewalk. A wallet. I promptly picked it up and flipped it sideways. Seeing a thick greeness that could be only one thing I decided not to tempt myself by seeing how much was in there. (if it was ones I'd be impressed, if it was bigger bills...)

I opened it's side pockets to see if I could find a name, and low and behold I spotted the logo of a drivers license. So I had the address. Check the house numbers and discovered it was the one next door to the one standing in front of. About the smallest detour you could imagine, so seconds later I was knocking on the door.

It was opened just about when I started wondering if I could shove the thing through the mail slot and be on my way. I was confronted by a shirtless man who was a surprisingly good resemblance to the DMV picture on the license. I didn't look at the license past the pic but I'd guess 30ish.

(I'm getting to a point)

I say, "I found this on the sidewalk." and hold it out to him. He recoiled, I'm guessing because it was bright outside and his eyes hadn't adjusted enough to see it. A second later he takes it baffled, and looks at me confused. About then a little blond kid, his son as I'd learn soon enough, walks up to watch (maybe 7).

Deciding his confusion was how did I know where to bring it I just say, "License" and you just see understanding color his face. He says thanks and in a completely understandable reaction flips it open to see if his cards are there before he checks the cash. I could see his surprise it still had the wad of cash in there (and I unfortunately saw it looked like mostly $20).

Apparently realizing his good luck (as before he hadn't had time to process) his casual thanks was replaced with a much more enthusiastic thanks. He shook my hand and said I had to meet his wife, to prove there where still good people. Before I could protest I used the hand he was shaking to pull me inside. I figured why not he seemed nice enough and it seemed to be making both our days. Somewhere at this point he starts thanking god I found it. I decide to play nice and not say anything.

The "honey" he yells and promptly a blond woman appears from upstairs. He hands he the wallet and says what happened, thanking me the whole way through. She even hugs me. Everyone is all smiles.

It's getting embarrassing as dad starts lecturing the kid about honesty using me as an example while wifey is thanking me, and has me explain where I found the wallet.

And once again god gets thanked I came alone, this time from her. But she spots the annoyance on my face at that one word. She asks what's wrong. I try for a casual brush off, not a believer, didn't see god help retrieve the wallet(jokingly) ,gotta go. She says that's okay as long as I know god. My response was something like sure whatever. Long story short she keeps asking me questions about my religion, until I just decide to tell her and hubby I'm an Atheist. I don't think I was rude, I just went from the polite brush off to a direct answer.

The mood in the room just changed. Where before she was practically smothering me with a kind of clingy energy, now she was completely standoffish back straight, arms crossed around chest level. She was looking at me like a woman confronting a puppy who had made a puddle on the carpet. Even her nose wrinkled like she was smelling something disgusting.

Dad went from looking like he was about to invite me to dinner to looking like I was a freeloading relative who had just arrived unannounced with suitcases.

Deciding that now I could leave, without getting stopped for more thanks. I said bye. He did shake my hand and thank me again, but he just wanted me gone.

Lesson of the story? You tell me? From hero to zero answering what she wanted to know.

http://whywontgodhealamputees.com/forums/index.php?topic=7454.0

By Rick Reilly
ESPN The Magazine

Are you a male who'd like to make $100 the sleazy way? Then I have a deal for you, but you have to act by June 25.

Of course, you'll have to cash in your basic moral decency to do it and incur the wrath of every woman in your life -- including your mom -- and feel worse about yourself than Sanjaya's barber. But we're talking $100!

Here's how to do it, but I wouldn't let the wife read this:

It so happens that on May 8, 2004, the Oakland A's had a Mother's Day promotion. There was a fight-breast-cancer 5K run before the game, free mammograms and the first 7,500 women through the gate got floppy plaid sun hats from Macy's. Nice day for the ladies.

Except that last part really hacked off a man named Alfred G. Rava. He was incensed that men weren't getting a floppy plaid sun hat for Mother's Day. He was so mad about it that he sued.

It gets worse. He has nearly won. A judge has given preliminary approval to a $510,000 settlement -- roughly half to lawyers and the rest to the "victims" -- the poor, downtrodden gender-disadvantaged waifs like Rava who didn't get their floppy Mother's Day hats. This is where you come in.

If you can prove you were one of the first 7,500 people there that day, you get $50 in cash, two-for-one A's tickets and a $25 Macy's coupon. It won't be hard. All you have to do is (A) state under oath that you are a male, (B) show some kind of receipt for your ticket and (C) swear you were there early. That's good enough. There's no video, and nobody's going to spend $5,000 deposing you about $100.

So how many guys have lined up to get their rightful floppy-hat-equivalent payment that was stolen from them by those selfish Mother's Day-manipulating women? "Well, I haven't taken a single call so far," said the 1-888 operator at the firm handling claims. "And I'm here just about every day."

A's fans are not just ignoring Rava in droves; they're pissed. "The entire settlement should be donated to the Breast Care Center at UCSF," says A's fan Ben Huber. "No good deed goes unpunished."

Isn't it good to know that most American males still have a spine? Save for (cough, cough) one.

Turns out Rava is a lawyer. In fact, this is not his first men-inism lawsuit. He's been part of more than 40 male anti-discrimination lawsuits, sometimes as the plaintiff, like in Oakland, and sometimes as the plaintiff's attorney. He has sued Club Med for a ladies-only promotion. He's sued the Angels for giving away a $1.45 tote bag to women in 2005. He has sued restaurants and nightclubs and theater companies. Mr. Rava gets incensed a lot.

Oh, and he doesn't even work in Oakland. He works in San Diego. Gee, I wonder what a sue-happy lawyer from San Diego would be doing at an A's-Twins game the very day that they were holding a women-only giveaway? I called and asked.

But Rava wouldn't say.

"Season-ticket holder?" I asked.

Rava wouldn't say.

"You went to a game on Mother's Day, to a game that was promoting breast cancer awareness, and you felt victimized by not getting a floppy plaid sun hat?"

Rava insisted it was a fishing hat.

And he thinks the fact he didn't get one is offensive. Not just to him, he says, but to the state of California, "which has a very strong policy against discriminating on the basis of sex."

"Dude!"

"Look," Rava says, "if ESPN were giving away free autographed Nolan Ryan baseballs to men only on Father's Day, would that be fair?"

"These weren't autographed baseballs. They were women's sun hats. Plaid, floppy sun hats."

Rava: "Fishing hats."

I'm surprised he didn't want his free mammogram, too.

Personally, I find Mr. Rava as odorous as a bag of dyspeptic hamsters. He's a greasy manipulator who has found a small leak in American law and stuck an open wallet under it. When they wrote California's Unruh Civil Rights Act in 1959 -- the act Rava cites in his suits -- they never thought soulless creatures like him would someday slink about the earth.

We are not a collection of legal briefs, appellate rulings and city ordinances. We are people. We are grandfathers and sisters and uncles and girlfriends, all woven into the fabric of this wonderful thing called sports. And if once in a while we want to do something nice for each other -- and not want anything for ourselves -- is that so wrong?

What are you going to do, sue?

Yes, Al Rava is going to sue and keep suing. What's next, Mr. Rava? Kids' Helmet Night? (Age discrimination!) Wheelchairs along the rail with a view? (Health discrimination!) Mullets Get in Free Day? (Clean-hair statutes!) Lawyers like Rava suck the fun out of everything.

What's amazing is that Rava's own mother died of breast cancer at age 53. How would she feel about his crass-action lawsuit?

"I am sure my mom would be proud of my lawsuit against this major league baseball franchise that denied male and female consumers under 18 years of age free fishing hats based on sex and age," he says.

Sun hats, tool.

http://sports.espn.go.com/espn/columns/story?columnist=reilly_rick&id=4247723&sportCat=mlb

Mrs Zeee on 07/06/2009

There was no ID with it or name on the envelope. The only other thing in the envelope was a withdrawral receipt from the bank next door.

So, naturally, they took the envelope to the bank and explained the situation.

The bank manager could not call the owner or hold on to the money herself because it was against policy, but she did offer to use the receipt to locate the name of the owner and pass it along to my friend so she could call the owner directly.

So, having received the owner’s name from the bank, my friend promptly called and left a message explaining the situation.

The next day, my friend receives a call from the owner.

Turns out it was an older woman who lost the money.

The owner explained that she must have missed the call because she was out to dinner with her friends.

She thanked my friend for finding the money and…. get this…. asked my friend to go back to the bank AGAIN and deposit the money for her, further explaining that she had already called the bank and told them to expect my friend shortly.

WTF? “Thanks, dear…” she commenced.

So, let me get this straight.

My Friend finds this lady’s CASH

My friend hunts her down to alert the lady that she lost her CASH

My friend finally gets a call back from this lady and then…

My friend has the PRIVELEGE of driving back to the bank to deposit this lady’s CASH for her?

Since when did a good deed turn into an errand on the behalf of the Samaritan?

Some people have such nerve… No good deed goes unpusnished!

In my opinion, that lady should donate the $300 to charity since she was so cavalier about it in the first place!

http://www.mrszeee.com/2009/07/06/true-story-no-good-deed-goes-unpunished/

by vinceman5 | June 27, 2009 at 09:43 am

Two years ago today, my brother died suddenly from acute heroin intoxication. I knew he was in trouble, but could not really help him as I was dealing with demons of my own. It happened while he was in the downstairs flat of our house and Mom was upstairs and I was at work. She heard screaming from the girls downstairs with my brother and went down to investigate only to find them trying to lift my brother's dead body from the bathtub. She stood by when the paramedics unsuccessfully tried to bring him back. We were devastated and she took to her bed 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

My brother's sister-in-law, Ray,was very upset by this even though we hadn't seen her in sometime. There she was grieving and lending support to our family even though she was one step away from being homeless. After a while, Mom wanted to have someone in the downstairs flat and decided to let Ray live there rent free. Things went okay for a while, but then her life style and choice of friends injected unwanted drama into our lives. She also became a financial burden we could not afford. Things, like jewelry, started coming up missing and we were always giving her 5 dollars here and 10 dollars there while she continued to use up our household resources without replenishing them. We finally asked her to move out at the end of May, but here it is, late June, and she's still here. I came home last night and my Bose player, a bunch of my CDs, my old cell phone and some laundry detergent were stolen from my room in the attic while my mother slept. We know she did it, but can't prove it and she continues to lie and suggest that someone climbed up to the second flat and broke into my room! She's an ungrateful thief and a liar and we will be evicting her soon. You try and do something nice for someone and get punished because you chose to help someone unworthy of help. A life lesson learned again.

http://www.nowpublic.com/environment/no-good-deed-goes-unpunished

April 10, 2009

I'd like to tell you a story.

It's a story that has a happy ending... but doesn't.

Last Thursday, I had to stop into the WalMart nearest my office during my lunch break. I went into the store to buy a laundry marking kit for my uniforms. While I stood in what I thought the appropriate aisle, a small child... well, maybe not so small (she was about 7 or 8) came to the end of the aisle that I was nearest too. She was n tears. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she couldn't find her mommy. Well, what is a policeman to do? especially when he is the father of girls?

I introduced myself to the kid (she immediately began to calm down, as I was in uniform), and told her that I would help her.

I walked back to where she had last seen her mother, and not surprisingly, her mother was looking for her! Mother and daughter are re-united (and it feels so good!) and all is right with the world... right? Cue that happy ending, play the music, and bring the lights up.

STOP!

It wasn't over.

While I was consoling the frightened kid, the mother spotted us and marched up and scolded the kid for wandering off. While it is certainly reasonable to scold a child who failed to follow instructions, a little understanding should have taken place. The kid had been afraid.

Anyway, I wanted to tell the lady that I had wanted to help, and was going to head back to my shopping... but I never got that far, as the lady snatched her child and looked at me like I was some sort of a pervert, trying to abduct her kid.

You know what? I totally get that. You can't be too careful, right?

What bothered me about the whole thing is that our world is in such awful condition that she even had to suspect anything like that.

Sometimes being highly observant isn't what it's cracked up to be. Maybe I should try self-interested oblivion instead.

The ride back to work was no fun.

http://gunfighter1.typepad.com/warrior/2009/04/fatherhood-friday-no-good-deed-goes-unpunished.html

March 16th, 2008

The Monterey Peninsula Unified School District in Seaside, California has just proven the age-old saying, ‘no good deed goes unpunished.’

15-year-old Marina High School student, Amanda Rouse, felt ill on her way to school last Wednesday morning, and decided to stay on her bus as it picked up elementary school students. The driver would take her home after the elementary route was finished.

However, by doing this, she didn’t follow proper procedure for leaving school grounds with her illness (checking out at the office, getting parent approval, etc.).

While the bus was driving the elementary route, the driver fell out of her seat at a sharp turn, and struck her head. The bus veered to the side and began hitting parked cars.

Rouse immediately jumped into action, hopped in the driver’s seat, applied the brakes and brought the bus to a safe stop.

So what does the school district do in response to this heroic act? Rouse was slapped with a weekend detention for ‘cutting class.’

The problem here is that years of absolute zero-tolerance thinking have left public school administrators with a very black and white attitude - no room for grey areas, no room for judging each infraction on its own merits.

Rouse should not be punished, she should be praised. School administration should waive the detention and instead thank this girl for her quick-thinking act of bravery.

http://awfulmarketing.com/index.php/2008/03/16/no-good-deed-goes-unpunished-girl-who-saves-busload-of-elementary-students-given-detention/

by Cyrano on Oct 30, 2007

Some 20 years ago, I went to a huge antique show at the local fairgrounds. After perhaps an hour of shopping, I found a nice collectible Coke bottle and since it bore no price tag, I asked the older gentleman behind the table
how much he wanted for it. He told me it was $5.00, and since that was a good price, I bought it, and put it in my bag with my other purchases.

This antique show was the largest in the state, boasting thousands of dealers, and 7.2 miles of tables.

Perhaps 45 minutes later, I had shopped most of my way through the next exposition hall, and spotted another item which caught my interest. I wanted to ask the seller about it, but he was talking with another customer, so I stood and waited for him to finish.

He was speaking with a young lady who sounded quite upset. "I left my dad watching my table," she told him, "and he sold a coke bottle I was asking $50.00 for - for just $5.00!" She went on to say that she was so upset,
that it had ruined the show for her -- and that she knew it wasn't her father's fault, and that he felt terrible, too. I listened to her telling the story while I stood barely an arm's length away, with the bottle in my bag.

I heard her finish her story, and begin the obligatory small-talk which normally precedes the end of a conversation. As she did so, I interrupted. "Excuse me" I said. I couldn't help overhearing what happened to you. I
can certainly empathize, as I've had similar things happen to me. I was just wondering -- if you could get the bottle back somehow, would that make things right again?"

"It sure would." she said sadly.

"Well, then, give me $5.00," I said with a smile, while reaching into my bag. She had a quizzical expression on her face. Clearly she didn't know what was going on. Then I pulled out the bottle and held it out to her. And in turn, I saw, first understanding, then amazement, then embarrassment in her expression.

"Oh no," she said. "That's okay. You don't have to return it. You didn't do anything wrong."

But I insisted. I told her that I'd had similar experiences in the past, but never got the items back, and wish I had. I told her that I was only doing what I would have liked someone to have done for me.

I gave her the bottle, she gave me $5.00, and we each got an amazing story to tell.

Think about it for a second. What are the odds that out of the thousands of people at the show, spread over 7 miles of tables, I would find myself standing within earshot of the very person who had owned the bottle, while she was relating the story to someone else?

I'm glad it happened that way.

http://www.helpothers.org/story.php?sid=7750

Here is a strange little story about bravery in the line of duty? Real brave officers tasers a 72 year old woman?

A 72-year-old woman who refused to sign her speeding ticket got out of her truck and dared a deputy to shock her with a Taser. So he did. Video released by a Travis County Constable’s Office shows Kathryn Winkfein hitting the ground and moaning while the shocks jolted through her body after the May 11 confrontation with Travis County Sheriff’s Deputy Chris Bieze.

Winkfein was stopped for driving 60 mph (96 kilometre) in a 45-mph (72-kilometre) zone just west of Austin. A dashboard camera in the deputy’s car shows the 4-foot-11 (1.5 metres) Winkfein refusing to sign her speeding ticket, getting out of her white pickup truck and cursing at the deputy constable.

Bieze then pushes her to get her away from traffic. “If you don’t step back, you’re going to get Tased,” Bieze says. “Go ahead, Tase me,” Winkfein says. “I dare you.”

The video shows Bieze using the Taser and Winkfein hitting the ground and moaning in pain. “Put your hands behind your back or you’re going to be Tased again,” Bieze yells, and then hits her with another jolt. Travis County Sheriff Greg Hamilton, whose office does not oversee the constables, issued a statement Wednesday saying:

“I do not personally agree with the actions of the deputy constable as they are shown in the video. When I look at the video I am in awe of what happened.” Winkfein was eventually charged with resisting arrest, a misdemeanour punishable by up to a year in jail and fines up to $4,000.

A telephone message left with Constable Sgt. Maj. Gary Griffin of the constable’s office was not immediately returned Wednesday. Telephone calls to a number listed for Kathryn Winkfein in Marble Falls, about 50 miles (80 kilometres) west of Austin, went unanswered.

Griffin has defended Bieze’s actions and said that Winkfein was belligerent and difficult to handle. Winkfein previously told Austin television station KTBC that she didn’t believe she deserved to be shocked. “I wasn’t argumentative, I was not combative. This is a lie,” she told the station. This cop should definitely receive a medal for this act of bravery, I am sure his fellow officers will not let him live this one down.

(http://allweirdnews.com)

ok so I was bidding in an all night phone auction- I had a colleague/friend who was buying half ownership on the lots that we won. It is easier for me to stay up until six in the morning than to get up at six in the morning so I was the chosen one to do the actual bidding. On top of this, I had a competitor who was sharing some lots with me.

At around 4:30 in the morning I was told that a major lot had closed and that it was mine. At that point, I noticed that my competitor had been outbid on a different lot that he was going after and so MY STUPID good deed was to call him at home, wake him up and give him the opportunity to place another bid on that lot he was about to lose. Well he thanked me and then proceeded to not only win that lot, but outbid me on the lot that I was already awarded! Wait it gets better, the person running the auction is someone that I had been very good to also.

He was a down on his luck type and one day he came to me and said that he could make some money (which he really needed) on a huge collection of comic books if I would loan him $5,000. I did and less than a week later he phoned me in a panic saying that he had made a terrible mistake buying the collection and panic sold all of it for less than $400. What a bit of magic turning my 5 grand into four hundred in less than a week.

Well now he was the one running the auction and he let my competitor top my bid on a lot that had been knocked down to me already. Now I was calling and waking my partner to tell him the bad news about the whole debacle and his wife (another story) got all up in arms for getting called late. Now I was fighting with the guy running the auction, my partner's wife, my competitor who I helped and would not concede the lot that I had won earlier in the night and my own demons for not just looking after my own ass!